


Earthly Family of Our Own (Side)

by FeatheredAngel



Category: Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Asexual Character, Best Friends, Canon Compliant, Established Relationship, Fluff and Angst, Important Original Character, Minor Violence, Other, but not really, earthly pleasures, or at least I tried to make it
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-18
Updated: 2019-07-19
Packaged: 2020-07-08 03:31:21
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,872
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19862803
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FeatheredAngel/pseuds/FeatheredAngel
Summary: Stories are not over after they are written, Aziraphale believes. So it doesn’t make sense that his story would end after their little magic trick to save themselves of death.New and old threats are around the corner, and the little space of peace he and the demon found isn’t made to last. Will him, Crowley, and their own allies be enough to stop what's coming for them, or will they have to face death and the raise of the Apocalypse...again?Please ignore I'm bad at summaries I hope the plot speaks for itself on my behalf :/





	1. The start of the End

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is based only on the show Good Omens and not in the novel, since it incorporates certain things that only happened in the series (that I won’t name since they are spoilers of the book). I hope you enjoy it!
> 
> Not beta read so please tell me if you see a mistake :) My first language is not English so there may be some mistakes on British/American english

For a butterfly, a month is a lifetime. In a month they go from flower to flower, from one park to another, a pure life only interrupted by the humans on their way who which to touch a butterfly. For a human, a month is just that, 30 days full of work, or if you are lucky, 8 days of rest and fun. But humans do a lot in a month, even if their lives are busy with mortality and money: they have dinner outside once a week, make parties with other humans, they watch movies, TV shows, or even in some cases, the news.

For an immortal being, a month is just a blink. Angels live in Heaven ignoring the pass of time, and demons…well demons don’t really care about the flow of time. Some may find it ironic, how the more time one gets, the slower they spend it. Just like money, some might say.

There were two immortal beings, though, that were the exception of the rule: precisely, one angel and one demon. A month for them, was not just a month, it was an overflow of experiences and opportunities. When the antichrist was born, that month became 11 years, all of them perfectly full of chances to stop the Armageddon. Sadly, those were 11 wasted years.

Now both of them had a month again. Which if you asked the demon, it was another wasted month: with the apocalypse stopped, heaven and hell leaving him alone for good, the month was...boring. Don’t misunderstand him, it was full of liquor and good sleep, but when you keep looking behind your back for 6 thousand years in case someone’s watching you betray your kind, not doing it makes your life rather dull.

Now, if you asked the angel what he thought, he would say the same month had been one of the best of his life. Not having to live in fear of his superiors coming for a visit was a pleasure he rather enjoyed. He used this newly found time to read books (old and new ones), go for walks around his favourite parks, and of course, discover places where to eat splendid food.

Which of course, takes us on his current situation. Aziraphale is now spending his 4th Friday after the near apocalypse walking on the busy London looking for some crepes. Normally, he would have tried to drag Crowley with him, but the demon looked rather tired of going out. So, he put on one of his best autumn coats and left his bookshop closed to search for an old bakery a few blocks away.

It was a shame, on his opinion, that he hadn’t been there in so long; the old couple of ladies were just the right side of chatty, the ambiance was spectacular and the food was one of the best of this side of London. Such a shame Crowley hadn’t wanted to come with him, even more so since…

It wasn’t there.

Instead, there was another establishment, another bakery it seemed, but with some things called cupcakes.

“Oh dear, what happened to you?” he asked to his memory. He remembered how the smell of bread would filter through the door before you entered or the good tea they served alongside his pastry, so many good things in his mind that he felt the sudden urge to ask what happened.

Tidying up himself, Aziraphale opened the colourful green door and crossed the threshold, taking the changes of the place: it was painted in bright colours, it had some of the old paintings decorating the walls; a new display was placed next to the counter and the floor was replaced by hardwood instead of linoleum. Also, there were more customers here, most of them sitting on the round tables scattered on the centre. The only person behind the register was a young lady wearing a black apron with a sunflower in the chest – what a coincidence, Crowley had the same one – who chatted playfully with a young couple buying her pastries.

Now it was a known fact that Aziraphale loved nearly every food he had tried – caviar was just no on his favourite list – and he was proud of his vast knowledge of the cuisine, but something as simple as a cupcake, he had never tried before.

The waiting line was not long, and when it was Aziraphale’s turn the girl was just waving goodbye to another customer leaving, then turned to him with a – it didn’t seem possible – brighter smile than before.

“Hello good sir, you must be new because I don’t remember seeing you here before, what would you like to order?”

“Well…hello” he smiled a little nervous at her surprising energy, not being accustomed to those manners “I would like to purchase one of your baked goods” he said baked goods like he was not very sure what was he asking for, which was in this case, true.

“Of course, of course, which one would you like? I have some blueberry ones just out of the oven” she looked at him up and down for a second “although you look like a lemon pie kind of lad, what will it be?”

“Oh, I’m just improvising I must admit, it’s my first time trying a cupcake”

The girl had a scandalized expression for a second before frowning with a changeling look “Well then sir, that’s just a shame and I can’t allow that in my store. Why don’t you have a seat and I bring something for you? And if you don’t like it I’ll give you another, my treat!”

“Oh that would be so lovely, erm…”

“Elena, it’s a pleasure to meet you” She shook his hand and ushered him “Go, go, I’ll bring you something in a sec”

Oh but those were the most adorable pastries he had ever seen. Little cakes with crème and some flowery decoration on top which had he been human he would have described as heavenly in flavour. He ended up staying for a while, trying on the delicious tea with honey alongside his dessert. He used the time to chat with Elena, who sat with him when the crowd died. She asked for his name and in return talked to him about her family.

“My aunt was the old owner of the shop before me, but a few months ago she got tired of having to wake up so early to bake and having to stay so late, the poor woman couldn’t even see her wife most of the week. So she gave me the place so I could continue with my passion here in London”

“But you are so young, dear, did you learn to bake as a kid?”

“Oh yeah, my family is very religious you see, we went to church every week and we made a tradition to bring some baked goods to the community every Sunday, difficult not to learn from that”

And the conversation went and went until it was time to close. Aziraphale paid for his food and helped her close the shop – with a little miracle of his own, blessing the place so it would be safe for the night – and accompanied her to the bus stop, where she waved goodbye to him.

“Come back when you want to, Aziraphale, I’ll be glad to exchange more stories with you”

As the bus rolled away, he smiled for the hundred time that day. How much love he felt radiating from the lady all day made him remember why he had fought so much to stop the Armageddon from destroying Earth. Such bright and pure souls didn’t deserve to be sacrificed because of Heaven and Hell, in his opinion. Of course, his kind didn’t think the same.

As he contemplated how cold blooded angels had been since the start of time, a figure appeared at his back, taking for a moment the tense arch of Aziraphale’s shoulders under the dim streetlight.

“What got your feathers in a twist, angel?”

The angel jumped a little and turned around “Crowley!” he cried out, surprised and delighted “What brings you here so late? I thought you were tired”

“Bored” corrected Crowley and slid next to the angel sitting on the bench “And I felt a little copped, a little drive sounded perfect, and what a coincidence I saw you pacing by!”

All of this was, of course, a lie. Even after 6 thousand years of friendship and the promise of not lying to each other in the middle, Crowley preferred to die than admit he had been worried about the angel when he hadn’t answered his calls in all day. In his defence, the last time he had gone looking for Aziraphale, the bookshop had been in flames and his friend had been discorporated.

They were still in alert, anyway, after their little stunt in their respective sides, so Crowley was _completely on his right_ at worrying for the angel. “So, what brought you here? I saw you talking with a lady just now”

“Were you overhearing our conversation, you old serpent?”

“I’d never!” he gasped dramatically “I am a decent demon, thank you very much”

“Whatever you say, dear” Aziraphale stood up, cleaning his coat, and turned to his left where the shiny Bentley was parked “You are taking me home, right?”

Crowley didn’t realize the angel never answered his question.

#

Although the witch Agnes Nutter never got prophesies wrong, it didn’t mean those never had unexpected consequences. Agnes’ great great grandchildren found this, unfortunately, when after reading a prophesy that spoke about a big bank now long forgotten by humanity, which she predicted to make rich anyone who inverted on it, lost millions when it went bankrupt just two years after, leaving her with just a few pennies to start over.

That’s how the family realized her prophesies, which were very specific in date and situation, had a quick expiration date. Her descendants became wealthy later on, always following the philosophy of the immediacy.

That was a lesson two of the unfortunate beings, who were receptors of her word but not part of her bloodline, would discover in the bad way. Agnes had been right when telling them to choose their faces wisely, and Aziraphale and Crowley had been right on their interpretation of it: changing bodies between them in order to save themselves of their painful destiny. Which Agnes hadn’t put into words was the worrying thing, sadly. How long their luck would last with their little trick she hadn’t said, nor how effective it would result.

Their luck, as it is, lasted exactly two months and 4 days. Describing how they were found would need a long explanation of cosmic abnormalities, the exact number of eyes the archangel Gabriel had and why Apple was still one of the most successful companies of the world even after the fraud they commit with their high prices – it was a demon deal with a demon on Canada –, but it is more easy to just say all of these events led to the same conclusion: neither Crowley or Aziraphale were hiding anymore.

As it was, the first sign of their mischief had been perceived by a lowly demon who ended up in Earth by accident after trying to escape from a hellhound. This random creature who will be called Bob at the lack of a real name, just happened to be passing by the Palace of Westminster when they saw two figures eating ice cream on the green areas outside the Parliament, too recognizable for the creatures of hell.

Now, the reason why both angel and demon were on that particular area of London was, for the first time, Crowley’s idea. You see, they usually preferred the more quiet places of London, small parks on week days, but Mr. Shadwell hadn’t left them alone since he and Madam Tracy decided to move away from London to retire, and had talked non-stop about a compensation for all his years of service for them. He made an habit of visiting the angel’s bookshop nearly every day, hoping to catch both of them at the same time to no avail – they were in the bookshop every time, but Crowley practically tackled Aziraphale to the back when he felt him approaching so they wouldn’t be caught – so, he started following them to their usual spots to hang out. Too tired of the old man, Crowley had just pushed his friend on the car and drove them to the last place you would find them, a touristic zone.

So that’s how Bob the demon found them, trying to relax after escaping from an old man out of his head. Now, of course, it was not the sight of them together that made Bob suspicious, as their betrayal was not a secret for both sides, but it was more the fact that, for a few minutes, he couldn’t recognize one from the other. He saw black blending into white, two bodies colliding into one, bad and good melting into grey, difficult to tell which one was the angel and who was the demon. Bob had seen Crowley a million times: his form unmistakable and imposing, nobody could look at him and not know his name. He couldn’t see him at the moment, he saw two figures and only one.

The minutes passed and there were two of them. Completely differentiable one from the other, one light and the other darkness, so clear that Bob questioned his sanity from a moment before. He was not stupid, and none of them had spotted him yet, so he sat under a tree with a stolen newspaper and watched them. Hell had gone up in flames when Crowley had gone into the bathtub with Holy Water without dying on the spot, and Lord Beelzebub had given the order to leave them alone for the sake of Hell’s sanity.

That couldn’t be, not a demon was free of sin and was forgiven, and those were their laws. Crowley couldn’t be the exception to the rule, and Bob would find the truth. Crowley would have to die. They stayed until dark in the park; Bob saw the phenomena again every half an hour.

#

The first one that noticed they were being watched was Aziraphale. The last customer had left for the day after purchasing a book that thanks to God Aziraphale was not fond of, and he patted himself on the back for keeping his composure during the exchange – although he had giving her a filthy look when she had looked at an old Hamlet edition. He put on his coat and closed the shop, an old whiskey under his arm, and made his way to take the bus to Crowley’s flat.

He was accustomed to people looking at him since his way of dressing was a little…old fashioned, as Gabriel had told him more than once, but there was something else that day, something he could not decipher yet. It was odd, feeling that so called sixth sense human believe they had – which was not wrong, as the average human had seven – which was strange for an angel. Sometimes, he really believed he was becoming more human as the time passed.

That strange sensation followed him all the way to the bus, then in the ride, and even when he arrived to his destiny. Following his instincts, he stopped in front of a shop and feigned interest on the men’s clothes displayed inside, instead using the glass to look behind himself. A short person stopped on the other side of the street and without any trace of subtlety, openly stared at him. Aziraphale recognized them from the bus, they had been sitting two seats behind him!

He closed his eyes for a second, and felt his surroundings: not a trace of love coming from anybody; on the contrary, it was anger and hatred, and it was all directed to him. Keeping his eyes wide open, he returned his pace to Crowley’s flat, intentionally taking a wrong turn that he knew for a fact led to a closed street. When he checked the person was following him, but was still too far, he spread his wings and for the first time in quite some time, fled.

#

Crowley, like every day at the same hour, was watering and threatening his plants. It was the only habit the demon had established – although one could argue his plans with certain angel were getting quite regular to become a _routine_. He was putting special care in them today, though, since it was getting colder and some of the plants wouldn’t survive even with the fear of God put into them. 

He was cleaning a leaf with a cloth when a loud bang came from behind him. Crowley would kill anybody that dared to say he had _yelped_ when a ruffled angel nearly fell on him.

“‘Ziraphale!” he helped him to straighten and glared at his friend “I know I told you to use the door at least when you came for a visit”

“Oh dear I’m sorry, I was in a bit of a rush and I miscalculated my landing” the angel straightened his bowtie and took the bottle he still had clutched, placing it on the table in the next room. Crowley left his work on the plants and followed him out, noticing the flushed cheeks and ruffled hair of the angel. “Where do you have the glasses? I had an extraordinary day and I thought it would be nice to end the day with a nice drink, and since you have left me waiting for a week I thought I better, how is the expression?, ah! Bring the party with me”

“Go sit, I’ll get them” He materialized out of thin air the glasses and served them both enough liquor to throw a human unconscious. He passed the angel one and sat in the chair next to him “Now tell me _what happened_ , you look like you got in a fight with a tornado”

Aziraphale knocked his glass back and drank half of it “Wrong? There’s nothing wrong!”

“I never said anything about wrong, you said it, now spill”

The angel flinched and drank the rest “I must be being paranoid, it’s all, dear. I had the impression that someone was following me” he smiled “I just got a little nervous”

“Following you?” Crowley didn’t want to be paranoid, but…

“I am probably exaggerating, we just rode the same bus and stopped at the same place…”

They sat in silence for a minute “Do you think they are onto us?” Aziraphale wondered.

“How? We were careful in covering our backs”

They had been careful, in fact, which was a first time for them. After Crowley’s offer to stay at his flat, the demon had offered to miracle the angel a bed in the living room so he could sleep. They had tried to do so, but past 12 am Crowley had gone to bother Aziraphale – who was very awake too – and asked for a drink.

“Scoot over” he told the angel who moved to his right, leaving the left of the bed empty for the demon “Care to miracle us a little drink? I think we deserve it”

Ignoring the fact they already had a bottle of wine already in their systems, Aziraphale brought something new, two bottles of Snake Venom that a customer once suggested he tried – he had been so pleasant that Aziraphale even sold him an old book from the 20’ (1820).

“Beer? What happened to you angel? You don’t want to get drunk tonight?” Crowley teased.

Aziraphale smirked in a very Crowley way “Tell me that after two bottles”

And they drank. They drank and drank until speaking was impossible, and somehow the conversation had switched to the XVI – XVII theatre and old miracles as the Shakespeare one. Crowley had been talking – if it could be called that – about some shenanigans he did to sneak a pair of twin ladies into a theatre company by making them look like their husbands, which ended up with the company being more successful than before. He was in the middle to explaining to Aziraphale that _it wasn’t a good deed I wasn’t being nice it was bad it was illegal_ , when the angel – who was so relaxed he had lied completely on the bed and had his eyes closed – suddenly sat up, not an ounce of the drunk mess he had been a moment before showing on his body, and turned to his friend who had stopped talking.

“ _That’s it!”_ Aziraphale looked over the edge of the bed (nearly toppling over it) and came back with his coat and a piece of paper. Agnes Nutter’s prophesy.

“What are you talking about?” Crowley sobered himself up, anticipating this was going to be important.

_“When alle is fayed and all is done, ye must choofe your faces wisely, for soon enouff ye will be playing with fyre”_ Aziraphale read aloud and waved the paper in Crowley’s face. “Choose your faces wisely! Crowley, the twins! You changed their faces to protect them!”

“I don’t follow you, angel” Crowley took off his sunglasses and rubbed his eyes. “Explain”

“Heaven and Hell, they will not rest after what happened. They will come after us and” Aziraphale gulped “We will be punished. Think of it, what would Hell do to you after stopping the apocalypse?”

“Death, surely” Crowley answered, already knowing where this was going “The most painful one they can think of, probably.”

“But think about it, dear. The things that can kill you, _destroy you_ , they do me no harm. Holy oil, for example? I can drink it every day for the rest of the time and it will do me nothing.”

Crowley thought about it for a moment “You think that Agnes’ last prophesy was telling us we should, what? Exchange bodies?” Aziraphale nodded “Do you think it’d work?”

“I don’t know” Aziraphale did a weird change of position, cocking his hip to the side and putting in a weird face “I think I pull off a really good Crowley, don’t you think?”

And thus, the plan was made. Of course, it was executed after one more round of alcohol and the morning after they had passed out on the bed. 

They had been careful on the act. It was the outcome that nobody dared to predict, what had been the revelation and the start of the second part of this mad story that was their lives.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! I hope that if you are reading this you liked the story already! <3 I watched Good Omens recently and was pretty sad that the show was over. Of course, it was so good I couldn't get enough of it!
> 
> I wrote this mostly bc I felt those guys deserved even more plot than a mini-serie. So, I wanted to continue with what we already had <3
> 
> I want this to be a long story and not only a short slash fic so there will be a little of plot and romance mixed with our fave characters, including the lovely Anathema and some Newt, as well as angels and demons.
> 
> Well... comments and kudos are always appreciated! What do you think it's going to happen next? What's coming after them next? 
> 
> Lots of love <3 <3 <3


	2. What is to come

When the low-rank demon whose name he didn’t care to learn had come running into Hell and announced very loudly that he had important information about Crowley and that angel of his, the traitors, the first thing their boss Beelzebub had done was lock up themself and the high ranking demons on the room to interrogate the unnamed being. Hastur paid attention to every detail that spilled from his mouth, filing it for later: about them going out together in broad daylight, about their strange forms and such. When he stopped talking, Beelzebub dismissed the demon and turned to look at the rest of them when the door closed.

“Nobody will ever talk about what happened in this room”

“My lord?” Asked Dagon.

“WE ALMOST HAD A RIOT” They said aloud, scaring everyone “Crowley and the angel must not be named here, or we could risk another.”

“But my lord, the traitor did something, he must be punished!”

“ENOUGH” Beelzebub flicked their wrist and the door opened “I want everyone out, if I heard a single word about them I will make death by holy water seem like a picnic” The Prince of Hell didn’t know what a picnic was, but they had heard it was a common phrase “Dagon, Hastur, you will stay”

Hastur was given a task, one he will be more than happy to do. Of course, Hell hadn’t rested after Crowley’s stunt, they just had taken matters into their hands to look for the explanation of their newfound power. Discretely.

“It may be a clue of what we already think” Dagon said “That they are somehow something else now, they they’ve changed. Not a demon nor an angel…”

“-Or it could be a clue about something else” Beelzebub finished, irritated. If demons could get headache they would be sporting a big one already “We need to figure out this faster… and the other side is not helping!” They kicked a table, smashing it against a wall. Good. Beelzebub thought for a minute and turned around to face the demon that had been silent for the whole exchange “Hastur!”

“Yes your damnation?”

“You are in research duty now. I will put someone to keep an eye on them, and they will report to you, Duke of Hell. You are going to look for every single thing we have on them on the last year. I want every move tracked. I don’t believe-” They coughed the word “God- would forgive them for these, She doesn’t forgive”

“Neither do us” Hastur smile was a creepy one, like he was never taught to do it “Crowley will not go unpunished”

He would make sure of it.

#

Although the risk for him was still afloat, the angel Aziraphale couldn’t help but leave his home sometimes. Crowley was not keen on having dinner or such with him when the risk was too high, so the angel had to learn to eat alone. He tried the Ritz first, but the ambiance seemed boring and he had nobody to talk to; next was a smaller coffeeshop a block away from his bookshop, and even if the chattering of the customers in other tables helped, he still felt…lonely.

His expression must have shown his bad mood, because when he finally decided to go to the bakery of last time, the young owner frowned and sat with him on the table. He was not eating his pastry, instead he was sipping his tea not even bothering to put honey on it.

“Are you okay, Azira?” Elena asked him, noticing the sad aura around him “Did something happen? Please don’t tell me I got your order wrong this time” she tried to joke, but the man barely smiled.

“It’s not that, dear, I promise” He put down his cup and for the first time looked at the cupcake on the table, a little bird of fondant decorating the top. “It’s just as lovely as always”

“Well thank you very much” Elena laughed “Now tell me, what is it? You look…stressed, or sad? I don’t know. Please tell me something didn’t happen in your shop”

Aziraphale wanted to tell the girl, but he didn’t know how to express what he was feeling at the moment, so he changed the topic “I see you put more pictures on the walls”

“Okay I’ll bite” She relaxed on her seat and her expression changed, a fond look replaced her worry. “Yeah I think customers rather like them, I get more old people now than before. I put a picture of my aunt and her wife, Cheryl, and one of my grandmother.”

Aziraphale followed where she pointed “And what about the big one? They are your parents?”

“Oh, yes. It’s from their wedding. My mother brought it yesterday, I didn’t even know this photo existed!” She laughed.

He didn’t know how, but for some reason he would later discover, the man on the picture was a little familiar to the angel. Aziraphale didn’t remember a lot of humans from the last century, having a shop making him less prone to recognizing people, but for some reason the man on his twenties smiling on the picture was ringing a bell on his mind. A detail caught his attention too, the way his eyes didn’t focus anywhere, how he was clutching the hand of the woman in a tight grip.

“Is your father blind, my dear?”

The smile on her face disappeared, instead replaced by a dark look on her eyes, if only for a moment. Aziraphale recognized something just happened. Something important.

She stood up swiftly, and made a motion for him to follow her. She guided him to the back, to the kitchen, only pausing to put a sign on the counter saying she would be back. Aziraphale was confused, had she gotten angry because he asked about her father? Should he not have? Maybe humans didn’t like that kind of questions.

He was wrong, what Elena did was take him pass the kitchen, to the small office hidden from plain sight. Inside, she closed the door after herself and turned on the light. Aziraphale realized what she was trying to show him: more pictures of her mother, little sister, and her father. Lots of them, in fact, lined the walls.

She plucked one on her desk and showed it to him and Aziraphale realized what he felt coming from her was not anger, it was anxiety and sadness. “My father was born partially blind, and lost his sight at 15. A few years later he met my mother and married a little after that” The picture Elena gave the angel though, was not of a blind man, it was an old man with a little girl playing a game that _definitely_ needed sight to be played. “He got his sight back a year before I was born”

“I’m sorry?” The angel blinked, confused “Did he have a surgery for his eyes?” He could practically hear Crowley saying _It’s called laser surgery angel!_ In his head.

Elena looked directly to his eyes for the first time since they left the table, the knowledge of _something_ showing on hers. “They said he was cured by a demon”

Then, Aziraphale remembered where he knew the man from.

One of the few times he had nearly slipped and almost got both him and Crowley in trouble. It was the 80’ and one of the last occasions Crowley had asked him for a favour as according to the Arrangement – is important to say that, since they lived in the same city, it was not as useful as before. A small tempting of a priest in the other side of the city – _I can’t do it by myself it’s in a_ church. Personally, Aziraphale preferred not to having temptations like that, but the priest Crowley was asking him to guide to the bad side was already corrupted (stealing the money of the Offerings) – which he knew but kept a secret to himself. Aziraphale, disguised as a demon to not attract attention of his own side, had just finished the deed by slipping a thousand euro on the same Offering and promptly watched the priest steal it _again_ , stood up from where he was pretending to pray and walked to the door.

A real prayer had stopped him then. He could hear it clear as water, as if it was directly for him, which probably was because he had been so close to the person praying. Aziraphale noticed the person, just a row at his left, kneeling and praying, a young man who cried silently. Now, Aziraphale had already been reprimanded once again by using too many miracles – even when they hadn’t been for his benefit this time – and couldn’t use another for the next two months at least, but the man was weeping and his heart ached, he couldn’t just leave him like that, so he casually sat beside the man and offered him a tissue. Using his most comforting voice he had asked the man what his pain was. A blind man, married and trying to have a good life, prayed for a miracle so he could have his sight back.

 _It never mattered to me and it didn’t matter for my wife, but we want a bigger family. I want to have family being able to see my children, to help my love and share her life, but I’m a liability like this._ The man had been coming every week, he told the angel, since they had married, praying for some miracle. _The doctors say they can’t do anything, I just want my sight back to help my family._

Feeling only love coming from the man, Aziraphale had touched his hand, which rested on his cane, and did a small miracle. _Do not fear young man, but you will have your sight back tomorrow when the sun comes out. Now go and rest_ , Aziraphale had told him. The man started crying again, and between sobs asked him his name. His demon friend used to tell him, sometimes, that he was one of the most stupid smarter angels, and in the moment, he would had been right. _Crowley_.

Of course, that wouldn’t be unpunished. As soon as he was back on his bookshop Crowley had started sneering at him, telling him that his side had heard he did a _good deed_ which of course, was unacceptable. Aziraphale had only told him to invent something, that the man was now part of a Satanic Cult and would only do bad in the name of Hell. He never wondered how the man knew he was a demon.

Aziraphale had forgotten all about that man until now, until he saw a small picture of a blind guy on the bakery he now frequented.

“A demon you say? Are you sure you hear him well, dear?”

The girl smirked “Dad never said it was a demon, people on the church did” She seemed to think for a second and made a triumphant noise “Crowley! That’s the name. Everyone looked it up, thinking it was some kind of prophet, or a being sent from God. What they found under that name was a long list of lore about Hell and demons, Crowley, they said, was a high ranking demon”

They were wrong, but Aziraphale was too speechless to correct her. “So… a demon cured your father of his disease?” he faked curiosity and incredulity.

Elena scoffed “Of course not, that’s what churchgoers said. It was an angel who cured him” she put the picture back on her desk and sat on it “Isn’t it right, _Aziraphale?”_

#

Hastur had secret weapons not even the Prince of Hell imagined, and this were not only physical ones. He had tried on the late XV century on the few times he’d been on Earth to use this new weapon called psychology: he played mind games not only of temptation, but of desperation. The best of them threatening the things or people they wanted the most: putting them at the end of the blade until the mind of the human was only able to do one thing. Wicked things. Seeking revenge was one of his best inventions of all time.

He looked through files nobody had ever bothered to look, the pictures taken from Earth of every demon that went there. There wasn’t too many of them featuring Crowley, since Hell was foolish enough to never check on their most priced demon: most of them was him alone, drinking at a party or tempting a millionaire, but there were some of him with the angel. Just two to be exact.

The first both of them were on a tavern from the third century, sitting close, drinking, eating and laughing. How disgusting. Oh but the other one, that one was the price he’d been looking for. A demon dressed in a black dress with a stern face and the angel disguised as a gardener, both talking together, with barely-there smiles while a little child who paid them no attention played on the grass a few feet away. Hastur knew that child, only a little older. _Warlock._

He gripped the picture and took the telephone on the desk, maniacally calling his new helper “Bob! Find more of this! Look for more pictures of this!”

Poor Bob didn’t understand a word he had said.

#

 _Isn’t it right, Aziraphale?_ Kept playing on his mind. He had never told the lady his real name, opting of using the name he used in Earth. And the tone, it was so accusing, and she was talking about angels! She couldn’t know who he was, could she?

“Yes I can” she answered, and the angel cursed himself for saying that aloud. He was slowly walking to the door, just about to escape, when the girl stood up and waved her hands at him in a panicked voice “I’m sorry! I’m sorry! Okay that didn’t come out well!” she slapped her forehead “I’m sorry, Aziraphale! I didn’t want to sound threatening! Dear Lord what was I thinking” she walked behind her desk and sat on the chair, lifting her arms in a peace sign “I just wanted you to know and I messed it up, I apologise. Please don’t go, please”

Aziraphale wasn’t convinced, even more suspicious now that he was being followed, but still sensing good things out of her, he sat on the other chair, prepared to leave as soon as he could. “Thank you, thank you” she whispered, relieved. “I know, I didn’t plan to tell you this way, I wasn’t even going to tell you, but you asked about my father and-“

“Dear you are not making any sense, explain to me please, what did you want to tell me?”

“Yes, right” she closed her eyes for a moment, trying to gather her composure “You cured my father when he was 25 years old from his blindness. And somehow you did an amazing job because the next day, he had completely recovered his sight, and a month later my mother was pregnant with me. Nine months passed, and a baby was born with a blind eye” she tapped her left one, which looked completely normal. “When that baby finally learnt to walk and talk, she started screaming bloody murder eveytime she saw certain man in a Van passing by the school. They took her to doctors, psychologist and went every option ran out, an occultist” She snorted “A very religious family, believers of the light, being cured by a demon and having a witch solving their problems.”

“It doesn’t change anything, dear, believe me. Witchcraft and religion had always been closely related, even if they won’t admit it”

“Yeah” she agreed half-heartedly “Well, long story short, the witch checked me, saw my eye and used a few tricks of her to show me some images. Prognosis: I could see occult forces on Earth”

“You can?” he bristled. It was not something that happened often, only once every millennia, and all of them granted by God herself. He thought back to their conversation “But you said people thought it was a demon named Crowley who cured him, how did you know it was me instead” he wondered.

“Oh! It was two weeks ago, actually, the first time you came here” She stood up and walked to the door, Aziraphale following her back to the front. She took out the sign on the counter and sat on it, motioning him to do the same next to her. The bakery was mostly empty except for some schoolgirls eating and looking at their phones. “See that small bag over the door?”

He did, in fact, the first time he came here many years ago “Your aunt had it before you”

“Yes” she made two cups of tea and gave one to him “Since the family was now more informed about the things that watch us in the dark-” she joked “We consulted another witch for a way of protecting our homes” she sipped her cup “As soon as you crossed the door I knew you were here. I was impressed at first, you didn’t look like a demon like I’ve seen before. You looked somehow familiar, too, and then I remembered” she put a little paper from a notebook on the table behind her “My dad made a drawing of the demon”

Drawing was stressing the word a little. It was not a professionally drawn picture of him, it was more like a sketch, but it did in fact look exactly like him at the same time. “I told you my name”

“And I researched it the same day while you were here. I was curious and a little scared, to be honest. You were different than what a demon looked like, you were like…light” she smiled “Azira didn’t throw any demon name, and I was going to give up and assume you just changed your name and were the demon I thought you are, until I found something related to angels” Elena opened her phone and showed him the screen “Azira-phale, an angel. I never thought they were real, but I found a lot of books that listed your name as an angel. I put two and two together and I hoped it was four, so tell me, was I right? Are you an angel?”

She was.

Aziraphale smiled “Pleased to meet you, Elena. My name is Aziraphale, I am a Principality on Heaven, and I own a bookshop"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Why am I updating this so fast? Because this chapter is mostly an introduction of some things, so why not?
> 
> Hope you enjoyed it!


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